Pompous took it as a matter of policy, but was immediately instigated by the evil one to tell a falsehood. He never felt the least conscientious scruple about lying, especially in the cause of “peace and quietness,” when he deemed mendacity a merit. Now he thought if he could persuade this unwelcome visitor that Miss Fronde was neither in the house nor in the neighborhood he would leave both without giving any trouble. So he answered: “So dere aine nobody at home, sah. De famberly all gone ’way, an’ de house shet up.” “Oh, I know the Grays and Eldes are in Europe, but your mistress—where is she?” Pompous drew himself up portentiously and rubbed his forehead. He was not ready with the details of his falsehood. He was huge and slow. “Why don’t you answer me?” impatiently demanded Hanson. “Where is your mistress?” “Yes, sah. To be sho. Dat’s so, sah. De youn’ mist’ess, sah. Yas, sah. De youn’ mist’ess hab gone to Wash’town, sah. Yas, sah,” Pompous finally replied, with a grin of satisfaction. He had got his story all right now. “Your mistress gone to Washington?” demanded Hanson with a slight smile. “Yas—yas, sah, to Washin’town city, sah. Yas, sah. It’s de sollum trufe, fo’ a fac’.” “Oh, Pontius!” exclaimed Hanson, with a laugh. “Where do you expect to go to when you die, if you tell such stories?” “Stories, sah!” exclaimed the negro, drawing himself up and pushing himself out. “I ’clar’ ’fo’ de Lor’——” “Now don’t ruin your soul by swearing to a falsehood. You know it is a story, and I know it is a story. As I came up the avenue toward the house I saw your mistress standing on the front porch, with two children on the lawn below. When she saw me she ran down, took the children, led them into the house, and locked the door after her, just as I reached the steps.” Pompous rubbed his head in sore perplexity. “Yo’ say yo’ seed de youn’ mist’ess on de poach, sah?” “Yes, I did.” “Mus’ be ’staken, sah. Mus’ ’a’ been Sister Sarious you seed dere.” “What! The colored housemaid?” demanded Hanson, half amused, half indignant at the impudence of the negro. “Yas, sah. Dat’s so, sah. Yo’s puffeckly yight, sah. It were Sarious as yo’ seed dere wid dem chilluns, jes’ as yo’ say, sah.” “Why, you dreadful old humbug!” exclaimed Hanson with a laugh, “I said nothing of the sort. I said it was your mistress whom I saw on the porch. Do you hope to persuade me that I mistook a negro woman, as black as the ace of spades, for the fair lady of the house? The devil fly away with you and your impudence. It was your mistress whom I saw plainly on the porch when I was close to the house. Now, what do you mean by telling me that she has gone to Washington?” he demanded. Pompous rubbed his forehead in dire perplexity. Then, with characteristic facility, he immediately “tacked,” and, putting his hands together with persuasive earnestness, he said: